


The Stars Remember Too [James Norrington]

by yeahrad



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: A pirate’s life for me, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Interesting past ya got there, James’ adoring wife, Loving Marriage, Memories, Pirates, Pure Love, Reminiscing, Sneaking Around, The love and adoration James deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahrad/pseuds/yeahrad
Summary: James’ darling little wife was once a pirate. All that is behind her now, but oh what she would give to relive just one day of that sort of freedom. Perhaps she would even settle for just one night.
Relationships: James Norrington & Reader, James Norrington/Reader, James Norrington/You
Kudos: 3





	The Stars Remember Too [James Norrington]

**Author's Note:**

> whether it was due to lack of sleep or my total love for James Norrington, this story flowed very easily. honestly quite proud of how it turned out. hope i did the man justice because he absolutely deserves all the love in the world and that is a hill i will die on. anyway! i do hope you enjoy this story of a good ol reminiscing pirate and James being on the receiving end of more love than a person can hold <3

It should have been a night of rest. Every sound, every sensation worked together to put me at ease, to guide me to a peaceful sleep. However, I still lay awake, staring at the wooden ceiling of James’ quarters. The gentle rocking of the ship, reminiscent of a mother lulling her child, would have normally sent me to sleep in mere moments. James’ rhythmic breathing, the warmth from his chest, the feeling of his arms around me. They all would, on any other night, lead to a blissful slumber.

But not this night.

Being careful not to wake him, I slipped out of James’ grasp, which is no easy task. My legs slid off the side of the bed, bringing my feet to the wooden planks below, leading me to be thankful we had fallen asleep on opposite sides this time. James usually insisted on sleeping on the side away from the wall. Something about the wall being safer. He always was the protective sort. As I sat on the bed’s edge, I glanced back at him. He was almost even lovelier in his sleep. There was no rigidity. No need to be proper and set an example. Just peaceful existence. The sight brought a smile to my face and I couldn’t bring myself to resist the urge to kiss him. Leaning over, I placed a soft kiss to his temple. His eyelids fluttered briefly, then he was still again, save for the slight readjustments in the way he was lying.

I could’ve sat there for hours. He was the picture of serenity, it brought me some form of comfort to see him in such a state. The love I felt for the man nearly overwhelmed me some days, some nights. Before him, I had never known that love could bring peace, that it could _mean_ peace. Love could be gentle, love could be soft. Perhaps common sense to most, but amazing discoveries to me. He showed me that love could be a lot of things. Somewhere along the way, I decided that he was love too. The very definition of it. We had been married 4 months at that time. Never did a moment come where I regretted it. Being joined with him before God and man felt right, I felt it in my very soul. During harsher days, thoughts of whether _he_ regretted life with me entered my mind. Though, he never gave me reason to think such things. He never would. He was love.

Ever so slowly, ever so gently, I pushed myself from the bed. The swaying of the boat was nothing new to me. Accounting for its movement was second nature, required no thinking at all. I made my way to a small chest by James’ desk. My fingers pried it open, lifting the lid slowly to avoid the creaking that sometimes accompanied it. I spared another glance at my husband. He shifted slightly, still asleep it seemed. Good. He needed the rest and I needed the solitude.

My hands landed on the contents, pushing garments around until I found the items I searched for. They lay towards the bottom of the chest. Perhaps I had put them there on purpose. There was no need to hide them, but I had never been a very open person. Even James couldn’t completely read me. Or, at least, I liked to think that.

Pulling the desired contents from their place, I gently closed the chest, rising to stand. I slipped out of my current dress and into the new, yet old, clothes. Every now and then I would glance back at James, half expecting him to wake at any second and sleepily beckon me back to bed. Once fully into the outfit, I took a look at myself. My eyes travelling my ghostly white sleeves, then moving to my trousers and worn boots. Stepping into the clothes felt like stepping into a memory. Reliving a moment. Gently moving about the room, I made my way to my sword. One of very few remnants of my past. James knew as well as I did that even fair ladies should have means to protect themselves. Trouble spared no one. It found even those who weren’t looking for it. I kept my sword, not as a reminder of the past, but as a tool to ensure a future. My hand curled around the hilt, pulling it from its sheath. There was some affection for the weapon present within me. A warmth in my chest. Never had I tried to live by it, but it gave me some bit of assurance, especially in my times of isolation. Returning the blade to its sheath, I brought the belt to my waist. Everything was in order, as it should be. I slowly stepped to the door. As my hand found the doorknob, I took one last look at my sleeping husband. My gaze lingered for but a moment, then I quietly made my exit.

Moonlight met me as I stepped onto the deck, gracefully falling upon my face and trailing down to my chest. I adored the sun, but was in love with the moon. The sun could be warm and kind, yet also harsh and unyielding. Someone in a position of power. But the moon - yes, the moon - she was always calm, graceful, reassuring. Someone in one’s family, blood or otherwise.

I removed my hat, pressing it to my chest. “We meet again, my friend. You look well. No, it is not a ghost who stands before you, dear. Only a memory. A dream, perhaps, dear lady, but no spirit. Whatever I may be, I am happy to see you.” I stared at the moon’s face for a moment before placing my hat upon my head again. “Always a pleasure...”

Surely someone else was awake and doing some job or other on the ship. They would have heard me. I couldn’t be bothered to care. That was one thing I had learned over the years, how to simply not care what others thought of what I was doing. Most people I had known in the years before never really cared, anyway. Oddities were common and so ignored.

There was a bit of a breeze blowing in from the sea. A faint mist dusted my cheeks as I breathed in the sea air. How anyone could stand going their entire lives never breathing the crisp air or feeling the gentle mists of the sea was beyond my comprehension. In my eyes, it was vital. Necessary to live a full and true life. Without such things, one was not living at all. Not at all.

Pressing my hand to the top of my hat, my gaze travelled skyward once more. However, this time, my fancy was not caught by any of the sky’s light. No, it was the sight of solid wood and billowing sails that held my attention. My legs moved before my brain could really contemplate the idea running through it. I found myself standing at the base of the main mast, my hand exploring the surface as if trying to find some hidden door. Patting my hand against the wood, my sight lazily set itself upon the shrouds. My next course of action became clear. Yes, quite clear. There was nothing to do but climb up.

My hands gripped the ropes of the shrouds, a harsh but familiar feeling against them. I would climb the shrouds until I reached the highest yard. Or, at the very least, something that resembled a yard. My only wish was to stand far above the deck below and survey the waters as if they were areas of land I was tasked with guarding. Determined to bring this wish to fruition, I began my ascent. I climbed as if I was trying to reach the moon, to get close enough to return the reassurance she had provided so many nights. Perhaps part of me was. As I made my way up, my thoughts drifted to what James would think. Though I had trained myself not to care about others’ thoughts in reference to actions that only affected myself, he had seemed to make himself the exception. The man had quite a talent for that. This was something he, and surely everyone in the Crown’s navy, would kill me for. I would receive quite the lecture. Lectures of anger and annoyance from others, of worry and concern from James. However, anyone on night duty would likely be too tired to care or say anything and my lovely husband was not there to know. I continued my climb.

The climb was one I had made many a time before. Standing atop dangerously high places was not something foreign to me. There was a thrill that came with the climb, a soft bliss that came with reaching the destination. I pulled myself up to stand on the yard, sticking close to the mast itself. One must be careful, after all. My eyes roamed the sea, taking in the shimmer of moonlight on the water’s surface. If I saw the sight a million times, it would still be just as if it was the first time. The breeze, a bit stronger at such a height, blew through my hair. I thought that perhaps this was the feeling that encapsulated freedom. Just as James was love, this was freedom.

Satisfied with my time amongst the clouds, I began making my way back to the deck. As I neared the bottom of the shrouds, I felt the urge to jump from them as I had done all the times before. Let my boots slam against the deck’s wooden planks. Such a sound would wake someone, though. Another time, I thought. Another time. I brought myself back to the deck and glanced around at the relatively empty space. In the morning, navy men would be running about. Red and blue coats coloring the scenery. But for the time being, only the silvery blue of moonlight covered the ship. I began wandering about the deck, ambling along as if it were a stroll about the town. Each step felt as if a past step relived. The soft thumping of my boots, my sword gently knocking against my side. It was as if I was once again a sea scoundrel. Free to roam the seas, free to go where I pleased. It was as if I were once again a pirate.

Piracy was behind me at that point. I enjoyed being free of the fear that I would meet my government approved death because of it. The crew I had been part of had never plundered, never hurt without cause, never killed without necessity. And, yet, we all could, and very possibly would, be put to death for it. It seemed not all good deeds were seen as such in the eyes of the law. I was still working on convincing James that the law wasn’t always right, that it could be used for evil. It would take time. He was a smart man, though. I had no doubt I could bring some bit of sense into him. However, even with piracy being firmly placed in my past, I sometimes found myself missing certain aspects of the pirate life. There was an exhilarating freedom in it that I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere. With the right crew, the camaraderie could be quite grand, as well. The memories left me lying awake some nights.

Leaning my back against the ship’s port edge, I once again turned my eyes to the sky. I had spent many a pirate’s night under the very same moon, the very same stars. The memories of such a life were still fresh in my mind. Wandering around alone and in my old clothes made it feel like I had never left. My crewmates would join me by the boat’s bow at any moment. I was certain the moon remembered such things, just as I did. But I couldn’t help but wonder if the stars remembered too.

Forgetful little wonders, they were.

I began to think of my sword, and all the memories of it coming to use along with it. It had been drawn on both friend and foe. The difference wasn’t always clear. Whether against friend or enemy, family or lover, no pirate has reached their mortal end without at least drawing their blade. Somewhere along the line, a threat would be faced. And no pirate worth their salt would be afraid of facing it head-on. Even a crew of pure intentions would face some sort of trouble. I had learned that lesson long ago and it had come as quite the shock. That was the day I realized that even pirates were not all on the same side. Perhaps the same side of the law, but nothing more. Outside of one’s crew, a pirate’s life seemed to be quite individualistic. Even inside one’s crew, if they honored the code, it was mostly every man for himself. As the code says, “any man who falls behind is left behind.”

I slowly removed my sword from its place by my side, holding it up to the moon’s touch. As I held it above me, I briefly caught a glimpse of myself. The reflection had mostly been my eyes, but they seemed to be the eyes of my past. Still mine, but of a different time. Those eyes were still running wild. A pirate through and through. If my steps had been whispers of my past, those eyes had been a shout. Such a sound carries on water. I was sure the whole world could hear. Seeing the lass I had once been filled me with a familiar exhilaration. I pushed myself from my place against the ship’s edge and held my sword in front of me, preparing to duel an imaginary adversary.

My footwork came easy, another remnant of the pirate life. Such a thing could be learned outside of piracy, of course. However, I, personally, never would have had reason to learn if I hadn’t taken up such a profession. I was told very early in those days that every pirate should have a weapon and be good at using it. Careful steps and movements were the key to mastery. My sword sliced through the open air. A good swing, to be sure, but my invisible opponent was not even grazed. Pure luck on their part. Every step was made with careful thought, all part of a bigger strategy. There was no true, physical opponent to defeat, but it was still a duel all the same. A dance between the living and the nonexistent. Or perhaps the past and the present.

I jumped atop ledges, angling my attacks downward. At times I would lean, or even jump, back, avoiding offensive attacks from the fictional foe. Perhaps it was not as dangerous or thrilling as a real fight, but it made me feel alive. It was the thrill without the threat and I couldn’t get enough of it. The duel had travelled the deck, leading me to fight around one of the masts or to lean dangerously close to the ship’s edge. Though no one was fighting with me, my passion alone began leaving me tired.

“You were ever the respectable opponent. I look forward to dueling again in the future,” I muttered to the air, giving a small but sweeping bow.

Raising up, I attempted to catch my breath, to bring it back to a steady pace. I tipped my hat backwards, letting it lie farther back on my head. It had been quite the night. It felt like an eternity, yet also only a fraction of a second of a pirate’s life. Once I felt I had regulated my breaths, I turned towards James’ quarters. I was met with the sight of James standing in the doorway, my sleeping gown folded over his arm.

“Darling,” I said, no doubt surprise coloring every aspect of my demeanor. “How long have you been awake? I’m very sorry if I woke you, I do hope that’s not the case.”

A small, tired smile reached his lips. He looked down for a moment before bringing his eyes back to me. “Ever since you left my arms, my love.”

All my sneaking about seemed quite silly then. I had thought he was asleep the entire time, knowing nothing of my escape into the night. Knowing nothing of my trip into the past. He never did let on all that he knew, even in the waking hours of the day. James always surprised me in that way. It seemed he always knew more than he let on. Perhaps his years in the navy had made him perceptive, observant.

“I nearly held onto you, but I suppose my curiosity got the best of me. Your attempts at stealth had me intrigued, even if you left the bed a bit cold,” he added.

It felt odd, standing there, being the picture of what he had vowed to destroy. Pirates. There had been a time when we considered each other enemies. Perhaps not each other specifically, but what we represented. Piracy against law and order. Even as we were married there was my penchant for wild behavior against his rigid propriety. We had found each other after I had been separated from my crewmates. I was grateful for that. Their futures may not have been as fortunate and forgiving as mine turned out to be. If that was the case, I preferred not to know.

“Yes, I suppose I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought,” I gave a sheepish smile as I pushed my hat down onto my head. A habit that I carried out when any amount of embarrassment came over me. “Or, perhaps, I have once again underestimated you. Commodore.”

That brought a chuckle out of him. A laugh that was every bit as tired as his smile. He lifted his face to the moon, just as I had so many times that night. It was as if he was taking the moment to think or to remember. I supposed the moon must share memories with him too. After a moment, he turned back to me, his hand stretched out. “Come, my love. I believe some rest is in order. You’ve had quite the adventure.”

I smiled, my love for him growing somehow, though I had thought it was impossible to love him even more. With a nod, I slipped my sword into its casing and made my way to James. His hand in mine, we went back to bed. This time, both of us ready and able to rest. After placing my outfit back into the chest and slipping into my sleeping gown, James informed me that he had seen every bit of my adventure. Not to embarrass me. Though, I only would have been mildly embarrassed even if that was his intention. He was curious about what on Earth I was doing out on that deck and why I had been so sneaky about it. It seemed he understood, though. Aside from answering my question of how much he saw and, of course, a lecture on the dangers of climbing masts and standing on yards, he made no comment about my adventure. He did not ridicule me, he did not grow angry that I held onto such pieces of my past, he did nothing but attempt to lull me to sleep. There was some silent expression of understanding between us. Neither one of us needed to mention it. James was an understanding man, a kind man. He was love.

We would remember that night, I was sure of it. James, the moon, and I. And I thought that perhaps, somehow, there was a chance the stars would remember too.


End file.
